


Learning

by CinnaStarks



Series: Inquisitor Izuna [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaStarks/pseuds/CinnaStarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold night marked by fire, Cullen is forced to trust someone that every instinct tells him not to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on tvtropes said something about how strange it was that Cullen and Dorian were playing chess even though their backgrounds should have rendered them enemies. My solution to that problem manifested in the form of an AU where Dorian helps search for Lavellan instead of caring for Roderick after the destruction of Haven.

Cullen didn’t trust him. If he had been vocal about it, the word “hypocrite” would have been the first word on everyone’s lips. The Herald of Andraste was a mage, after all, and Cullen trusted her with the fate of his home. She wasn’t Tevinter, though. With few exceptions, such as a young blood mage he met in Kirkwall, the Dalish weren’t infamous for their experiments with the arcane. They weren’t a trustworthy bunch, but they didn’t pride themselves on blood alone.

This “Dorian Pavus” had agreed to help search the snow for signs of the Herald after helping them evacuate Haven, but why? Why did he choose to help just minutes before their base was ravaged?

“Having trouble, Commander?” He asked with a tone that toed the line between teasing and sincere.

As if on cue, another streak of pain shot up from his ankle. It was a stupid injury caused by an even stupider mistake. The bank had been too high, too slick to jump down and yet he had. Not that it was going to stop him, though. “I’m fine.” Cullen forced out.

He pretended not to notice Dorian’s eyes rolling up to the heavens. “You’re a terrible liar and that limp isn’t doing you any favors.”

“Neither is tha-“ The retort sank into the snow below his feet as a familiar green light came into view. It was small, barely visible in the snow flurries, but it was something. She wasn’t lost. “There! It’s her!” Adrenaline surged through his body. He broke into a run.

There was an audible _crack._

Cullen lost his balance as pain began to radiate from his injured ankle like the fires that had engulfed Haven. Darkness flooded his vision, but he wasn’t going to go down just yet. A broken bone was nothing compared to the Circle or Kirkwall.  “Make sure she gets back safely. I’ll be-“

“We are not leaving you.” Cassandra protested.

“You cannot possibly take care of both of us.” He glared up at the Seeker, who had made no move to help the Herald. Instead, she looked down upon him with those cold eyes of hers. “Our only hope could be dying while you argue over the fate of a former Templar. Go!”

Neither moved. Dorian cleared his throat. “Aren’t we forgetting that my weapon of choice is widely used by the elderly, mage or not, for support?” He glanced at his staff and then Cullen.

“You killed six Venatori with that thing.”

“Jealous?”

“I’m not using that.”

Cassandra snatched the staff from his hands. “You don’t have a choice.”

Bile creeped up his throat at the thought of touching something that had been used against him so many times before. He looked at the still approaching figure in the distance and embraced the warmth that came with thinking of her. Izuna Lavellan was as stubborn as an angry bronto, Cullen had known that from the start. “Give her my cloak.” Shaking hands undid its iron clasps. It was in Dorian’s hands before the snow could touch it.

“What a generous, albeit flamboyant, offer.” It took a moment for Cullen to realize the sincerity of the remark. “It’s not much, but I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

Cassandra helped him stand while Dorian began walking towards the light. Though Cullen struggled to keep up with them, he never once stopped watching her light. He kept his eyes trained on her, watching as it continued to move forward. Every time it did was further proof that Izuna had survived this. There was hope.

But then it came to a halt.

It sunk.

“No.” Cullen’s good leg began to shake as if begging its owner to run.

Before he could ask, Dorian was gone with Cassandra following soon after. Despite his hatred for everything the Imperium stood for, Cullen felt bad for the mage. His homeland almost never saw snow and there he was, pushing through a storm. One of his shoulders wasn’t even covered. _He probably knows fifteen different healing spells._ The commander reminded himself. _A little frostbite won’t be the end of hi-_

“She’s still breathing!” Cassandra’s words rang through the air like church bells, low but welcome.

Crisis averted.

The tight grip Cullen didn’t know he had on the staff loosened. His knuckles regained some color. “Thank the Maker.” He breathed. Deep within his chest, a knot that had formed when she left the Chantry undid itself. After what felt like an eternity, however, the relief was soon replaced by a pit in his stomach.

Two silhouettes approached him, but one held another in its arms.

More bile crawled up his throat as rumors of what men like him did to elves like her entered the forefront of his mind. Save for chance conversations with one of Hawke’s companions, Cullen never had the chance to separate fact from fiction. Rumors alone were enough to make his blood curdle, though.  Cassandra was strong enough. She could have held her. Why did he have his hands on her?

The Seeker must have read the worry from his expression alone, for the first words that came out of her mouth when they were within earshot were “Dorian cannot fight without his staff and neither can you. Someone needs to be capable of defending the Herald.”

Cullen could only nod.

Izuna Lavellan was alive. Her lips were blue, her clothes were bloody, and her entire body was limp in a Tevinter’s arms. But she was alive.

No one spoke until their responsibility for the Herald’s life found its way into Mother Giselle’s hands.

“Commander, do you think there’s a chance I could examine your leg?” Dorian asked as soon as Cassandra had left to take care of other duties. “I’m no healer, but a few fractures shouldn’t be too hard to patch up.”

“The Inquisition’s medics-“

Cullen’s muscles tensed under the sudden pressure of Dorian’s palm on his shoulder. “-are busy treating civilians.” This time, the mage’s seriousness was unquestionable. He pointed to a pile of crates close, but not beneath the shelter of the makeshift clinic. “And before you ask, I also want to speak with you.”

“Fine.”

“That’s the spirit!” He said with false enthusiasm. “Now let’s go get you patched up.”

Getting situated on the boxes was not a hard task. On the field, he had to make due with whatever the medic could find to prop his body upon. Rocks were usually the surface of choice, which made the relatively smooth crates a distinct improvement from the norm. Biting back curses as pain pulsed up his leg with every inch he attempted to move it, Cullen found a moderately comfortable position. “If I see one drop of blood on your wrist-“

“Yeah yeah, you’ll stick me through.” Dorian said, pulling off his left greave with surprising delicacy. “If Imperium rumors are to be trusted, you’re a former Templar.” The boot left his foot with less grace but, before Cullen could scream, a flash of white shot from the mage’s hand. Every nerve ending fell numb.

“That would be correct, yes.” He watched as the mage prodded at his chilled limb with his forefinger. “Why would a Tevinter give a damn about that when everyone here has a reason to loathe your people?”

Dorian shrugged. “Just curious as to why someone who clearly doesn’t trust magic would sacrifice his well-being for a Dalish mage’s.”

“She’s the Hera-“

“I’ve studied more than magic since I was old enough to walk, Commander.”

Neither man spoke a word nor left each other’s gaze for what felt like an eternity to Cullen before he finally opened his mouth. A sigh escaped his lips. “My former commander, Meredith, went mad as a result of her hatred.” His eyes found the still sleeping Lavellan. “The Herald has given me the opportunity to change a fate I once believed was similar to that wretched woman’s.”

The mage nodded, but said nothing. A light, green but cooler than the one that shone through a crack in the Herald’s wrist, formed between Dorian’s fingertips. With a flick of his wrist and only a quick glance at Cullen, the ball became a beam and the beam shot through injured flesh. Though he could not feel a thing, Cullen’s stomach turned at the cracks and pops that started to come from his foot.

“I guess that means it’s working?” He asked.

“That it is, my good man.” Dorian folded his arms across his chest, a delighted smirk forming across his lips. “Now that you’ve told me the source of that scowl you always have plastered across your face, I think it’s only fair that I answer a few of your questions while the bones set.”

“Why do you care about all this?” The words fell before he could stop them. “More specifically, why are you so willing to kill your fellow Tevinters?”

“Besides the fact they’re trying to further the world’s destruction?” Grey eyes shot up to the empty sky above.

“Yes.”

Dorian shrugged. “You saw flaws in the Templar Order, with that Meredith woman, and the Inquisition gave you an excuse to finally leave. Replace ‘Templar Order’ with ‘Tevinter Imperium’ and you have your answer.” He said. “Before the Conclave I had about severed ties with my family and my mentor helped strengthen the Venatori, so there’s no real need to come back anytime soon.”

As much as he had wanted to, Cullen had no time to process everything he had just learned before he spotted a scout running towards them. “Ser.” He saluted the Commander. “Seeker Cassandra demanded that you report to the center of the camp at once.” The boots were already being shoved on.

“Duty calls.” Dorian said, a hint of a smile twitching upon his lips. “It was good speaking with you, Commander.”

Cullen did not echo the sentiment out of necessity. Haven was gone. The Herald was unconscious. Friendship with a mage was supposed to be the last of his worries. “And you as well, Dorian.” He nodded at the older man and left without another word.

* * *

 

_Years Later_

* * *

 

 _“_ I’m scared, daddy.” His eldest daughter says, peeking out from beneath the blanket she’s hiding beneath. A nightmare, something he is still very familiar with after all these years, has sent him running to her room in the middle of the night as soon as the screams found his ears. “I don’t want sissy’s magic to hurt me.”

Cullen’s heart sinks, but he cannot show it. Instead, he gently tugs the blanket away from her face. “Clare, did you know that your daddy was once as afraid of magic as you are?”

Brown eyes, his eyes, widen with curiosity. Her head cocks to the side. “But what about mama? And Uncle Dori?”

“Funny that you should mention him.” Cullen pauses as the image of his friend gloating about this later flits about his mind like a drunken butterfly. It brings a tired smile to his face.  “Because he also helped daddy see that magic wasn’t anything to be afraid of.”

“Really?” Timid fear morphs into curiosity. Though the irises share a shade with his own, the way they seem to take up most of her face when she’s excited is something she gets from her mother alone. Then it’s gone. “But mama and Dori know how to do good things with their magic.” Her brows knit together as best an eight year old’s could. “Thea doesn’t. What if she hurts me?”

The question makes his chest hurt. She shouldn’t have been asking those questions, not at her age. “Your mother is doing her best to teach her how to control it and, even if she does hurt you on purpose, remember that she is only six. She has time to learn from her mistakes.” Scarred fingers brushed the hair out of her face. “Forgiving someone isn’t always easy, but it’s the right thing to do.”

Clare’s expression relaxes once more. She yawns. “Okay, daddy.” And just like that, his eldest daughter is asleep. Cullen sends a silent prayer for her dreams to be pleasant up to the Maker and walks carefully out of the bedroom.

He does not immediately walk back to his room. Instead, he remembers that cold night marked by fire and the pain that shot through his leg. He remembers wanting nothing to do with a mage his daughters would call “uncle” even as he held a woman whom the daughters would call “mama” in his arms. He remembers the popping of his bones as they moved back into place and learning about why this Tevinter wanted to help.

But most of all, he remembers learning to forgive the very people that had ruined him all those years ago.


End file.
